


No Grander than the Rest of Us

by DragonLady2015



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: More will be added as they arive, Multi, OC changes the timeline, idk - Freeform, rewrite of an old fic, Éponine's relationship is subject to change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2016-11-26
Packaged: 2018-09-01 04:48:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8608576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonLady2015/pseuds/DragonLady2015
Summary: How would things change if Fantine had lived through the night? If someone had been quicker to aide her? When those with power also have pity, everyone benefits.





	1. No Grander

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is a rewrite+continuation of a fic I wrote almost four years ago. It's still up on FF.net, same name.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How would things change if Fantine had lived through the night? If someone had been quicker to aide her? When those with power also have pity, everyone benefits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rewrite/Continuation of a fic I wrote almost four years ago. It's still up on ff.net. Same name.

_"Come on dearie, why all the fuss?_  
You're no grander than the rest of us  
life has droped you at the bottom of the heap.  
Join your sisters  
make money in your sleep."  
-=-=-=-=-

The harlots beneath the pier had dressed the pretty girl up in clothes like theirs, disgusting makeup smeared over her pale face. As a young captain came and offered Fantine his hand, fear clutched a different woman’s heart from where she stood in the shadows. She doubted the poor woman would last the night with that lot looking after her. Without a thought, the new woman stepped from the shadow, deep red ringlets bouncing .

"Stop."

The prostitutes turned to glare at her, and the petite blonde and the bastard next to her turned as well. Fantine tried to cover herself a bit, embarrassed to be seen as she was by someone as well dressed as the auburn-haired woman was. She stepped forward and Fantine looked down. Gently as she could, the taller woman cupped Fantine’s cheek and pressed her to meet her gaze.

"Don't be afraid, lovely. I don't bite."

Fantine turned her head slightly and the woman caught her eye. The captain on Fantine’s arm glared at the new woman.

"You don't belong here, miss. I suggest you leave." he informed her, jerking Fantine away from her. The auburnette caught her arm and Fantine looked up at her with confusion, as if to ask why she was helping her. The taller woman bit back her Scottish side from showing through.

"You've come here fer a lay any a' these whores can give yeh. I'll be taking this one," she retaliated as Fantine freed herself from his grip and clutched her.

"Why you little-!"

"I don't think yer superiors would be too impressed if yeh ended up having to tell 'em tha' yer shiner's from a woman." the man paused, confused, as she gestured for Fantine to get behind me.

"I don't have a-"

"And yeh won't if yeh leave now." she warned. She noted the unmistakable sound of Inspector Javert's horse and smirked as the man came at her, fist raised. A scream that was not hers pierced the night and there were yells not far off. Hoofbeats echoed through the streets and the man tried to run, but he found his path blocked by several of the less cruel prostitutes. Two clock ticks had yet to pass when Javert showed up with several other men, one of which the tall woman recognized as Mayor Madeleine, a good friend of hers.

"What's all this?" the inspector sneered. She reached back and clutched Fantine’s hand, gesturing to the man with her free appendage.

"Inspector, this man was about to strike this poor young woman for absolutely no reason," she informed him, easily replacing her scottish accent with a french one. The harlots nodded in agreement as the man called out denials and strings of profanities. She smirked and waved as he was swiftly arrested. The crowd dispersed and Javert returned his attention to her.

"Truely fortunate timing on your part, mademoiselle. But if you don't mind my asking, what are you doing in this area so late at night? And all alone?" She scolded herself internally for not thinking ahead before stepping aside, revealing the young woman to the two men.

"I was out for a walk when I saw this woman looking desperate and ready to drop dead. I only came to lend a hand."

Javert nodded.

"I'll expect you to stop by the station later to fill out a report." he informed her, turning with his new soon-to-be convict. "M'sieur l’maire, Mademoiselle Angevine." And with that, Javert and his men took their leave, leaving the women with the Mayor. Or, as she knew him, Valjean.

Said man seemed to be looking on curiously to the woman who now clutched me into an embrace as though she were a lifeline. He swiftly approached us, his hand gaining a mind of its own as he reached to cup her cheek.

"I've seen your face before, have I not?" She flinched away and glared at him, looking as though she'd like to strike him.

"Forgive me if I lose my manners when speaking to the man who cost me my dignity." They were both taken aback by this. Mademoiselle Angevine looked meaningfully at Valjean, though he did not return her gaze, favoring pasting his gaze to the young woman.

"What do you mean?"

"Your foreman sent me away. You were right there and you made no move to stop him." her tears wetted Angevine’s shoulder as she spoke shakily, not looking at them. A look of horror crossed his face, remorse and self-hatred filling his eyes. Angevine patted the petite woman's back soothingly.

"What is your name, miss?" she asked, noting the heat of her forehead against the crook of her neck.  
"F-Fantine." As she mumbled, her clutch on the woman released and she collapsed into her arms. Supporting her waist, Angevine pulled the choppily shaved head to her neck.

"M'sieur l’maire, she's sick. Help me get her to my home." Snapping out of the day-mares she was sure he was having, he mounted his horse. With astounding speed she passed Fantine to him and swung her leg up onto the horse’s back, holding Fantine between them as they galloped down the near-empty street.


	2. Yet to be Dreamed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little kindness goes a long way.

As Fantine returned to consciousness, she noted voices nearby. The first was gruff and masculine, with a disapproving tone.

"I still think we should take her to a hospital."

"Oh, please. Thin blankets in a cold room? She'd be dead b'fore th' night was ou’." This second voice was gentler, but still rough with a thick Scottish accent. A cool dampness coated Fantine's forehead and a thick blanket was tucked under her side. She groaned quietly, reaching up to touch the wet cloth on her brow.

"Marnin', sleepin' beauty." the Scottish woman smiled as the blonde's eyes fluttered open. The first thing she saw was bright grey eyes twinkling happily, set like silver and surrounded by thick, dusky eyelashes. As the face came into focus she noted the light sprinkling of freckles and ringlets of auburn hair hanging in her face. “Glad you’re awake.”

“Who are you?” she asked tiredly, trying to clear her head.

“Marceline Angevine-MacGregor.” she introduced, dabbing lightly at Fantine’s head. “Lay still. You’ve got quite a fever, and straining yourself won’t help.”

Reality flooded back to Fantine as she realized that., while she was safe and alive, she was jobless and still had no money. She sat up quickly and a rush of pain hit her, making her lay back down, hand pressed hard to her temple. The woman patted her cheek and pressed the back of her hand to her forehead.

"Don't you be rushin' off now, girlie. You'll catch your death without some rest." she warned, measuring Fantine's temperature versus her own.

"But I need money for Cosette..." she insisted tiredly, trying to sit up again. The woman held her down, muscles pressing slightly against her sleeves as she restrained the blonde.

"Who's Cosette, dear?"

"My daughter. She's ill, and if I don't send them enough money-"

"Sh, sh sh. Fantine, I think you should start from the beginning." the woman stated. And with a deep breath, she did.

Fantine explained the affair, and resulting pregnancy. She recounted a few stories of trying to raise Cosette on her own, before finally giving her up to the Thénardier. Many tears were shed by both women, a few escaping ValJean’s eyes as well. Fantine cried quietly under the pair's kind gaze, allowing them to touch her comfortingly.

"Fantine, I think you should stay here. The street is no place for a young mother. I'll go get Cosette myself and bring here here for you." Fantine looked up at her with tearful eyes.

"Oh no, I couldn't-"

"Yeh can and yeh will. Yer literally working yerself t' death. And where’ll little Cosette be when yer gone and can't send any money?" Fantine was silent. "Yeh say 'ere with me. Give Cosette her mum back."

When she was done, the dark-haired woman cooed comforting words until Fantine fell back asleep. As soon as she was, she escorted ValJean into the other room, yanking roughly on his arm.

"What're we gonna do? That poor woman, no home, no money for herself, let alone a child."

"It's all my fault.." He murmured. Marceline rolled her eyes, gripping his wrist tightly.

"Dun be stupid, Jean. It would have come to this one way or another. Now listen, you've got to go save that innocent, but get back here once you've cleared his name."

"But-"

"But nothing. If you want to believe that it is your fault, then you better also believe that have a responsibility to Fantine. Get back here, don't let yourself be followed, take care of Fantine. You'll probably be back before me." She informed him, grabbing her cloak from the hook beside the door.

"Where're you going?" he asked, watching her pin it shut. The freckle-faced woman grinned, calling for her driver to ready the carriage.

"I'm going to get Cosette, of course.” She responded, grabbing her purse as well before heading out the door.

-=-=-=-=-=-

Marceline smiled as she finished filling out the report on the man who had been with Fantine earlier that evening. She couldn't help but feel a small sense of pride when she handed it over. Inspector Javert looked it over and placed it on his desk.

"Thank you, Mademoiselle." He gave her a brief smile which she happily returned.

"It was my pleasure, monsieur." She said, turning for the door briefly. Her mind turned to the Thénardiers.

She'd been warned about them several times; they were a pair of innkeepers who wrung every franc out of their tenants. She was about to leave the station when she turned back to Javert.

"Actually, Monsieur, I was hoping I could ask a favor."

"Oh?"

"Yes. The woman from earlier is staying with me. She was sending money to a couple of innkeepers to look after her daughter." Javert's smile from earlier was no longer present on his face.

She continued, "I've heard... stories, monsieur. I've arranged with the mother to collect her daughter while she's resting, but I'm afraid they'll become violent if they don't benefit. I was hoping I could borrow and escort for the evening. Just in case."

Javert nodded briefly, calling in a younger officer from another room. The new man was handsome, chin-length blonde hair tied back with a blue satin ribbon, cerulean eyes sparkling as they looked her over. His imposing height made her feel safe rather than intimidated, the well-fitted uniform showing off a slender yet well built figure.

Marceline offered her hand for a shake, but he brought it to his mouth and kissed it gently.

"Francis Bonnefoy, Mademoiselle." He smiled, eyes shining.

"Marceline Angevine." She informed him, grinning almost challengingly to hide her pounding heartbeat.

Javert gave Francis his job description and she thanked them both, leading Francis to her carriage.

"We'll stop at home first to check on Fantine." She told the driver, who nodded with understanding. Francis offered a hand to help her into the carriage, but she ignored it, favoring swinging up into the seat with her hands on the bars. The blonde man shrugged lightly and climbed in himself, sitting across from her as the horses began to pull.

"Fantine is the woman you're caring for, I presume?"

"Yes. She's staying with me until further notice." She said, begging her fluttering heart to calm down.

"That is very kind of you, Mademoiselle." Marceline smiled despite herself.

"Call me Marceline." she insisted, "Formality bores me terribly." Francis laughed at the comment.

"Well, I shall have to do my best not to bore you, won't I?"

"Yes, you shall." She laughed quietly in return. The two talked comfortably until they reached her home.

Marceline allowed Francis to help her out of the carriage before dashing for the door, not bothering to hold it open for her guest. she sprinted for the sofa, sighing in relief when Fantine was still there. She carefully picked up the cloth on her patient's head, rewetting it and wringing it out before placing it back where it had been. Francis watched her do this with mild interest, curious as to how a woman with an upbringing like he assumed Marceline had had could be so caring for a woman she hardly knew. It wasn't something he was used to, being a high society brat himself.

The woman carefully slid her arms under the sleeping figure, lifting her into the air and walking into a hall. Francis followed behind, ready to jump in and catch both women if need be. But Marceline didn't falter once, carrying the blonde woman in strong arms. Finally, she stopped at a door and looked at Francis.

"Catch the door for me, will yeh?" She said, nodding at the door. When she realized that she hadn't covered her accent, a look of terror passed through her eyes.

Francis didn't seem to notice, simply opening the door for her. Marceline nodded her thanks and entered the bedroom, carefully sliding the sleeping blonde under the covers. The blue-eyed man stood by, watching Marceline whisper to the woman, now noticing the foreign accent on her lips.

"Since when are you Scottish, mademoiselle?" She stopped murmuring, going rigid. She froze like that for a while before smirking.

"Finally caught. Wondered when it'd happen, honestly."

"You're avoiding the subject." He informed her. The brunette stood, ringlets bouncing as she did so.

"Alright, yeh got me. I'm half Scottish. Dad's a Scot, mam's a frenchie. Happy?" She asked, obviously pissed. He made a motion for her to continue and she sighed, slumping to the bed. She begun to explain, accent totally unrestrained.

"Me mam was on a trip to Scotland with me granddad when she met me da. Obviously, they fell in love, an' had an affair. Mam went home an' found out she was pregnant. Me da knew what'd happen to an unmarried mam 'round 'ere, so I got shipped to Scotland and was raised there. Moved 'ere a few years back when me mam got sick. Clear?"

Francis nodded, watching her carefully. "And why is it a secret?"

"Because people are cruel. Because I've been called a bastard child more than once by people half my age and I can't stand it." A hand covered her own and Marceline smiled at the awakened Fantine. Francis sat next to her and placed a hand on her shoulder and she gave him a grin as well.

After minutes that seemed like hours, Marceline had Fantine sign a note to retrieve Cosette. When she had, Marceline set out a simple gown for the blonde and ordered a meal to her room for when she woke up. Then she and Francis slipped out and into the carriage, destined for the Thénardiers inn.

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to everyone who was still following from this fic on FF.net! And a warm welcome to any new readers joining us!
> 
> I promise I'll try to be more consistent this time around. Although, updates will probably be bi-weekly instead of the weekly I had them going as before. Sorry for the inconvenience, but I'm also writing some new stuff for the ML fandom @ the moment. As I figure out a schedule, updates may become more frequent, but we'll see. Hope you all enjoyed!


End file.
